Someday
by Once Upon a Whim
Summary: Because they've talked about picket fences before... CS, no spoilers.


Spurred on by 5.04, but takes place in the six weeks between 4.11 and 4.12.

Because they've talked about white picket fences before…

* * *

Emma glances up at the modest split-level ranch in front of her, then dropped her gaze to the wrinkled paper in her hand and groans. "Seriously? I said apartments," she sighs, glowering at the listing and inwardly cursing whichever dwarf it had been that ended up a real estate agent. Dopey, probably. "Just apartments. Just because it says _rental_ does not imply apartment…"

Behind her, a throat clears and interrupts her incensed mumblings. Probably not wanting to piss her off more, she hears Killian offer, "I don't understand why you're so insistent upon sharing walls with other dwellings-"

She cuts him off, basically ignoring his words as she continues her muttering. "Maybe it's divided up into a couple…?" She wonders aloud to herself, rounding the side of the house to look for a second entrance. A second entrance that clearly doesn't exist. "Ugh, forget it, let's go," she grumbles, resenting the waste of time as she stomps past Killian back towards the Bug.

But she feels his hand grab her wrist before she gets too far. "Swan," he asks tentatively, clearly confused. "Does it not still meet your desired specifications? Quarters for you and Henry each, and well within your cost range?"

Emma freezes. "Yeah, but… I don't want a house," she stammers, hoping he'll drop it.

But he chooses that moment to play up his pragmatic side and counters, "I fail to see the problem with such a dwelling, love."

She turns back toward him, and the house, with a defeated sigh. "It's too… It's just, I don't know. I can't have a house."

Of course, he still doesn't let it go, instead doing that infuriatingly sexy eyebrow thing and plastering that freaking _hot_ smirk on his face as he swaggers temptingly close to her. She's pretty sure she's managed to forget her house qualms and is already flushing and breathing a little heavier mere seconds later when he snags her belt loop with his hook, pulling her close enough that he can hiss in her ear, "Swan, might I remind you of the potential benefits of not having your nearest neighbors quite so near?"

And Emma's not exactly protesting when his mouth suddenly finds its way from the vicinity of her ear to her own lips. He nips at her bottom lip and she welcomes him in, their tongues dueling as he pulls her hips flush with his. Her hands find their way around him and up underneath his jacket and shirt, her nails raking up and down his back. She can feel him swelling in his jeans against her, but she can't bring herself to care that it's a little inappropriate for the middle of the street in the middle of the day. This _is_ a rather significant factor in wanting her own place, after all.

It's only when she feels him back her all the way up to against the Bug that she pulls away, swollen-lipped and nearly breathless. She leans back against the car, panting, and lifting her hand weakly to his chest. "Down, boy," she murmurs, but not really meaning it.

Killian merely smirks at her once more before backing away and reaching for the hand still resting on his chest. He places a gentle kiss on the back of her hand before lacing his fingers through hers and sidling up next to her, leaning on the car and eyeing the house with her.

Once Emma's pulse has slowed, she gets the sense that he's still waiting for more of an explanation. He's certainly not making any moves to leave, so they're still left there staring at that stupid ranch house.

She drops his hand and rakes her fingers through her hair. "Houses are…" she begins tentatively, pausing. "Houses were the families that had their shit together, you know?" She finally blurts it out, memories of the Swans, of various foster siblings, of Lily getting her kicked out. "Places I never really lasted. Or even fit in the first place," she laments, swiping at the beginning of a tear in the corner of one eye. "I don't know. It would just be weird to be in my own, even if it's not really _mine_ mine. It's like I don't belong in one, pretending to be a real family. I never have." Even as she speaks the words, she knows it's dumb, and she knows it doesn't make any sense, but since when are emotions logical?

Killian's hand makes its way to hers again, and she feels him give a squeeze as he tried to calm her. "You may find you'd get accustomed to it with time, love," he says softly.

"I know, I-" her voice cracks ever so slightly and she knows she needs to push those emotions away before they get the best of her. So she resorts to more practical excuses after she clears her throat. "It's too big; what do I need a separate dining room and a basement for? Henry's not even going to be here all the time if he's staying with Regina. What am I going to do with all that space by myself?"

She hears him clear his throat too, at the same time as he drops her hand. She doesn't need to look to know that he's doing that bashful head scratch that he does. And he's doing exactly that when she glances at him just in time to hear, "Perhaps you needn't be alone in it."

Emma feels herself suck in a quick breath at what she thinks he's implying, a hint of excitement tempered by a tendril of panic coiling in the pit of her stomach. "Killian…" she says, trying to stop him before he starts.

But he continues, not heeding her slight warning. "Swan, I may still be learning customs of this realm, but I have gleaned that a man and a woman sharing a home prior to a betrothal is quite common-"

Eyes wide, Emma stiffens and cuts him off far more sharply, "Hook-" Getting a place to finally be on her own and have an actual normal, adult, sexual relationship is _not_ the same as the partner in said sexual relationship moving in with her and hinting at future betrothals.

But maybe he knows her and her hang-ups better than she even realizes, she thinks, for he continues on as if she'd said nothing. "…but also not to be rushed nor taken lightly." He turns her towards him before continuing earnestly. "Swan, I'd not be so presumptuous to assume that our current arrangement implied that you would invite me into your home as anything more than a temporary guest. Granny's lodgings are quite suitable… for the moment." Without her permission, her stomach does a little flip-flop at the thought of _after_ that moment, maybe not quite so scary as she'd originally thought. "

Killian continues, "I'm merely suggesting that with a larger space such as this, your parents and your brother would likely be inclined to grace it with their presence from time to time. You'd not be alone often, not in your family, and not in this town."

Emma allows herself a wan smile, watching as he wanders back closer to the house. Maybe not right away, but she has to admit, the thought of even a half-normal life with her son, her parents and brother visiting for a barbecue or something… Might not be horrible.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a sudden knocking noise and Killian speaking louder from where he'd strolled to the edge of the property. "Come to think of it, once his young highness is fit for walking, I'd imagine this barrier may be of use to your parents on such a visit."

She pulls herself from her thoughts, glancing to where Killian is gesturing, and finally registers that he'd been knocking on the low, decorative fencing at the edge of the yard.

"I rather like it, myself," he says, smiling at her. "A bit of a nod to castle walls, as is befitting you and your royal pedigree."

In spite of the mix of emotions in her head, Emma can't help but let out a decidedly _not_ -royal-sounding snort at the sight of Captain Hook waxing poetic over a white picket fence. "You're into the white picket fence?"

He looks slightly miffed at her reaction, but declares defiantly, "Indeed, I am."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Emma walks over to him, a hint of a smirk gracing her features. "Little cliché, don't you think?"

"Swan, I'm afraid whatever you're alluding to is not amongst the knowledge of this realm that I've come to know," he replies, still looking somewhere between affronted and befuddled.

"House with a picket fence," Emma sighs, back to the idea of the picture-perfect family that she's already been trying not to think about. "It's like my parents in the Enchanted Forest," she explains, resigned. "True love, wedding, castle, happily ever after? Here, it was the 50 years ago, sock hops, going steady, getting married, and buying the house with the white picket fence. Kids," she adds. "Dog. It stuck. So the fence is still a thing," she finishes with a shrug, looking away.

She doesn't turn back, even as she hears him echo thoughtfully, "The fence is a thing…"

"And not really my thing," she finishes, her words clipped and short.

"But," he amends, "that doesn't mean it couldn't be."

She's still fighting with herself, with what she wants, what she thinks she can't have, what she's allowing herself to imagine for the two of them… So she fights him on it instead. "You'd want that," she challenges stubbornly, turning to face him again. "Captain Hook, sitting around in a boring old house with a fence and kids and a dog and-"

"And you."

Emma blinks hard, managing to be caught off-guard by his sincerity. But what he's angling at is still too much, and even if she allows that she might, somewhere deep down, want that too, it's too much right now. She can't – she _won't_ – right now. So she plays it off jokingly, "Please, let's be honest, how much sitting it this town going to let us do anywhere, house or not. It's been what, a couple weeks? No witches, monsters, snow queens… That's not going to last." She ends with a harsh, hollow giggle.

It would be hard to miss, the way his shoulders slump at her aloof words and the dejected tone of his reply, "Aye, fair point."

She hates that he can read her so well, and she almost hates that he's doing is gentlemanly thing and not pushing her, because the only place that leaves her is knowing that he's upset, and disappointed but trying not to show it, and dammit, they are too far into this relationship to just leave it like that.

He's already back to the Bug, moving to open the door to climb in the passenger side when she finally forces the words out. But he needs to hear it, and maybe, so does she. "…The fence would be good. And the rest. Someday," she adds stiltedly. "Ok? Maybe even soon. But I…" She trails off uncomfortably, a hot flush warming her cheeks, owing both to the admission and the broad smile of gratitude now gracing her pirate's face.

He's gracious enough to take her admission and leave it at that, save for a slight nod of acknowledgement and a gravelly, "Understood, Swan."

He climbs into the car, and Emma takes a deep breath before heading to the driver's side and sliding in herself. She sees him clutching the second page of rental listings, and when their eyes meet, she offers a tenuous smile. "I mean, I never had the chance to move out of my parents and into my own ratty apartment when I was twenty-two. Better late than never?"

"Indeed," he chuckles. "Though may I suggest, love, if you do intend to allow me into your _apartment_ , particularly when your boy happens to be spending time at the Queen's home," he pauses, leering suggestively at her, "that you might endeavor to find one with in which the bedchamber is not one of the rooms that shares a wall with your neighbors' dwellings…"

On that point, Emma certainly agrees.

~Fin~

* * *

PS - Dark Swan, while intriguing, is not waking up the writing muse. I'm interested in tackling prompts, if anyone has any, be they modern AU, Dark Swan, or other seasons.


End file.
